


Foolish Games

by MemoryDragon



Series: The Games We Play [1]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, The Doctor does not solve them, The Master Has Issues, Undercover, b_e drabble challenge, trope prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 01:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/pseuds/MemoryDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor goes undercover for UNIT and is bored to tears with the assignment. When the Master shows up, he at least has something else to occupy him, even if it's just their usual game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foolish Games

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, nor do I make any claim to.  
>  **Warnings:** I'm not sure if it's just the real life drama surrounding this fic or what, but I don't like it that much. Still, for what it's worth, here it is. Also, I'm not sure if this is following the cliché at all due to the fact I'm going at it cold and it didn't make much sense at all to me, but I've done the best I could with it.  
>  **Notes:** Written for the best_enemies drabble prompt, "Undercover Gay and/or Tentacles", using the former prompt. I've cut off a good half of what I've written for it that will be its own fic. The two parts really had nothing to do with each other and were just better off as separate fics. So have the first bit now. The second will be along sometime later. Also, I should like to say this fic was aralias 's fault. She had to go and make it into a challenge by saying she didn't know how the prompt would work for Doctor/Master. I never could resist a challenge.  
>  **Thanks:** Many thanks to narwhale_callin for betaing this and helping me figure out where the fics wanted to go and got these two fics on track.
> 
>  **Originally Posted:** Jul. 16th, 2011

The Doctor had better things to be doing with his evening than sitting at a gay bar. He had his TARDIS to fix, which was more important than sitting here on some undercover mission for the Brigadier. His comments about Time Lords not having the same sexual hang-ups as humans did _not_ , as Mike Yates seemed to think, make him the perfect person for this assignment. He largely suspected the good Captain had come up with the plot to weasel out of the assignment himself. Though why the Brigadier _listened_ to that nonsense, he'd never know.

He sat at the bar, moodily nursing his whiskey and listening to the chap next to him go on about the woes of his job. He made a few sympathetic noises to at least appear interested, though he was half daydreaming about distant planets and cultures he could be visiting if not for that damnable block on his memories.

"And then my boss told me I had an hour more to get that report to financing or I was staying until nine every night until I actually did the work. Can you imagine the nerve of that? I should quit right-"

"Yes, old chap, you should," the Doctor cut in, annoyed that this man's idle prattle was interrupting his daydreams of Metebelis 3... or was it the planet Midnight? Confound it, now he'd lost his train of thought entirely. It didn't matter if he needed a low profile here or not, he was getting rid of this babbling idiot. Looking around, he spotted what he needed. "Why don't you try that young fellow over there? He looks like he's having a splendid time. You should ask him what he does for a living."

The office worker looked over, squinting as the alcohol in his blood made him unable to focus. "He does look like he's having fun. Yeah, I'll go talk to him!" The man picked up his drink and stumbled over to the table, hiccuping as he went.

The Doctor sighed in relief once the bumbling fool had gone, settling in to his whiskey in a much brighter mood. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to get rid of him," the bartender said, leaning over the counter with a wink. "Five more minutes and I thought I'd have to call an ambulance saying one of the customers had been bored to death."

Chuckling, the Doctor looked the young man over. Early-twenties, quite handsome, a Welsh accent, and with a remarkable behind that was easily seen through pants that were cut to accent it. What drew the Doctor's attention were the young man's eyes, however. Those were bright eyes that had seen more than the rest of the world, and they intrigued the Doctor more than mental illusions of traveling for the moment. "Was I that obvious?" he asked, offering his glass to be refilled.

"Just a little. He didn't seem like your type either," the man said, filling his glass with a relaxed smile. 

"Really now?" the Doctor asked, relaxing more himself. This man had been the first decent person to talk to all night and thankfully wasn't trying to flirt with him either. That was the first two pluses out of the three hours he'd been here waiting for this fellow with the alien artifact to show up. "What would you say is my type then?" he asked, both curious and interested in keeping up the conversation, if just to pass time.

"Someone who enjoys life," the bartender said with mock seriousness. "Someone with a sense of humor too, I should think, and is cheerful. You, Sir, need someone who is a lot more adventurous than an office worker."

"Good heavens," the Doctor said, a genuine smile inching its way across his face. "I'm usually not this easy to read."

Wiping down an empty glass, the bartender returned the grin. "The office worker bored you out of your mind, but you perked right up when you started talking to me. Except, you haven't tried flirting with me, so I'm assuming you're also looking for someone a bit older."

The Doctor nodded, though age was very relative to a Time Lord. "The name's Peter, by the way," the man said, offering his hand to the Doctor. The Doctor accepted it and approved of the firm handshake. "Peter Evans."

"Doctor John Smith," the Doctor said, falling back on his usual alias. "Just 'Doctor' will suffice."

The young man raised his eyebrows, undoubtedly adding 'self-importance' to his file on the Doctor. Which the Doctor did nothing to dissuade him from, considering he was every bit of deserving of his ego. "Very well, then, Doctor. What brings you out here? I haven't seen you around before." 

"Thought I'd try something new," the Doctor replied, despite clubs like this being nothing new to him. However, only he needed to know that. "What about you, old chap? You don't strike me as someone who would enjoy what this particular establishment offers."

Blushing, Peter ran a hand through his hair and smiled sweetly. "Guess I'm not the only one who's observant. The boss has a strict no touching or harassing policy of the staff here, and he enforces it on the customers. He says he doesn't care if I'm straight so long as I look good in tight pants and don't start getting religious on him."

The Doctor considered this, taking a drink of his whiskey. He might resent being tied to this planet, but there were times that humans never ceased to amaze him. He decidedly liked this strange young man and the bar owner he'd never met. If only he could offer to take one or both with him on a journey to see the stars... but he couldn't, and the thought only ended up depressing the Doctor more.

"Now there's a man who looks more like your type," Peter said with a grin. He leaned forward and pointed to someone behind the Doctor, changing the subject as the Doctor's mood dipped with the ease of any good bartender. The Doctor supposed that must be part of a bartender's job, because happy drunks were much easier to handle and kick out than their less cheerful counterparts.

Well, who was he to argue when the young man wanted to change the subject? Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the Doctor turned indulgently to see who Peter had picked out for him. 

"Oh, no," the Doctor said, his good humor kicked out from underneath him in a millisecond. "What on Earth is he doing here?" Probably here for the same reason the Doctor was, now that he thought about it, but that didn't stop the Doctor from cursing quietly under his breath. 

"Whoa, didn't expect to hit the nail dead on," Peter said, looking up. "Ex-boyfriend? There's a booth you could hide in over here."

Ex-boyfriend? They were hardly... Yes, there had been a bit of fooling around back at the academy, but the Doctor had certainly never wanted to date that studious bore! Though the Master always had been surprisingly good at sex the few nights the Doctor was bored enough to take advantage of the Master's pining after him. Before he could jump into that rant, however, he remembered he was on an undercover mission and that tidbit did fit a cover story nicely. "I wouldn't go that far," he said instead, stubbornly refusing to admit to any sort of romantic relationship with the Master. He drowned his glass of whiskey as the Master caught sight of him, really wishing he were anywhere but here. "And I'm afraid he's already seen me. Thank you for the offer though."

Peter re-filled the Doctor's glass again in sympathy. "It's on the house," he said quietly as he moved away. "Good luck."

He needed more than luck to deal with the Master in a gay bar. It was a real pity human alcohol wouldn't get him drunk enough. Maybe he should have asked for a ginger beer instead of whiskey.

"My dear Doctor, what a pleasant surprise to find you here," the Master said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he walked over. His tone proclaimed there was nothing 'pleasant' at all about the meeting, and for a moment they stared at each other wearily. "I hardly expected to find you in a," the Master paused, choosing his words with a more cordial air that only just hid his distaste, "... a fine _establishment_ such as this."

The Doctor leaned back against his elbows on the bar, looking every bit as relaxed as he didn't feel. "Don't be tiresome. I'm sure you know what we're both here for. You won't get it." 

Raising an eyebrow, the Master came and sat beside him, scanning the room for their target. Thankfully, the man was still nowhere in sight. "That remains to be seen, Doctor," he said cheerfully, ordering a brandy. 

The Doctor nodded to Peter's questioning glance, signaling he was alright. And things were just starting to get interesting. The Master couldn't have turned up three hours ago when he was already bored to death and might have _wanted_ a distraction. Timing had never been one of the Master's better virtues. "Well," the Doctor demanded once Peter had moved a safe distance away. "What's your excuse this time? I'd have thought a Misnorai fonic quantum stabilizer would have been below your interest."

"So should it yours," the Master said, taking a sip of his brandy. "Unless, of course, your military friends are worried such a thing might fall into the wrong hands. Are they sending you to do their dirty work now?"

He was being baited, and the Doctor so very nearly rose to it. The Master's smug smile just barely kept his temper in check and off his face. He was hardly going to let the Master string him up with such childish remarks. "I happened to think they were right on it not falling into the wrong hands and a night out sounded like a good idea," he lied easily, proud that he didn't sound as testy as he felt. "You still haven't told me your interest in it."

The Master chuckled, a deep, rich sound that the Doctor found he quite enjoyed when he let himself. Now, however, he wasn't exactly pleased with the proceedings and was trying to keep from glowering over his drink. "My dear Doctor, I'm afraid UNIT's sources were mistaken. Misnorai technology was merely the cover for much more valuable wares."

"What makes you say that?" the Doctor asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The Master wasn't pleased by the question, though he hid the fact well - just not well enough for the Doctor to miss when he'd been looking so hard for something to hold over the Master's head. "How terribly embarrassing. You lost it, haven't you?"

"I didn't lose it," the Master hissed, losing his temper. It was the Doctor's turn to indulge in a smug grin as his enemy slowly forced his shoulders back down. "One of these humans was foolish enough to try and steal it from me. Unfortunately by the time I had dealt with the situation, it had already passed hands."

The Doctor didn't spare time for the poor chap who was stupid enough to rob the Master. He mourned the loss of life, but right now there were more lives at stake if the Master had come to reclaim whatever this object was. It had to be important then. "And the presumed seller tonight knows he has something hot; he's been skittish about arranging a meeting for weeks. He wouldn't have come near the place if he'd known soldiers were here," the Doctor said, summing up the rest of the Master's troubles and the reason for the Doctor going undercover. "You haven't been able to find him any more than we have." 

"As you say," the Master said, tilting his head in acknowledgement. "I'm sure you would find the pursuit thrilling, but I've grown weary of this chase. I've come to make an end of things tonight."

Ignoring the veiled insult in the Master's tone, the Doctor glanced around the room again. He had no idea who the seller was (and presumably, neither did the Master), but the buyer was a sympathetic politician who had volunteered to use his resources to help UNIT out. The Doctor remembered that one. Bright, optimistic young man with a mansion that was being destroyed by alien termites that the Doctor had taken care of. The politician's representative was sitting in the far corner, but so far no one had approached him. Which meant either the seller was scared, possibly too scared to come forward, or that there was another potential customer. Though why a gay bar was chosen as the meeting point was beyond the Doctor's reasoning. 

"Out with it then," the Doctor said, keeping up the conversation as he watched the room wearily. "What is it you're so keen on, if my sources are wrong?" 

Having regained his composure, the Master ran a gloved finger down his glass of brandy and smiled. It was a dangerous sort of smile, but the Doctor met it head on and with a rising interest. At least things weren't going to be boring any longer. "You do me an injustice, Doctor," the Master said. "Do you really think I would be foolish enough to tell you what it is?"

"My dear fellow, I wouldn't dream of implying it." The Doctor took another sip of his whiskey and wondered how far he wished to push this teasing. "But usually by now you've explained everything and are offering me half the galaxy."

He'd pushed too far, the Doctor could see that by the seething look in the Master's eyes. Perhaps he'd just said it too offhand, or the words had actually stung a nerve. Or maybe the Master was just in a mood to be touchy, which was understandable given his obvious frustration with finding the culprit. The Doctor motioned for Peter to come over. "I'd like another drink, if you would. Also, another for my friend here."

The Master was far from mollified by being bought a drink, but it did give him time to calm down and form a less emotional response. "And by this time, you usually turn me down," the Master said coldly. 

He really _was_ touchy today, wasn't he? Time to change tactics. "You'll hardly change anything by telling me what it is, old chap. I'll figure it out when I grab it before you do anyway."

Starting moodily on his second brandy, the Master glanced around the room again for his query before answering. "I don't see what I would gain from telling you, either."

Was he actually going to have to apologize? The Doctor hoped not, because that would be admitting that a simple bit of teasing hurt the Master for reasons the Doctor generally refused to acknowledge for both of their dignities. Before he could make up his mind, however, a cloaked figure entered the club. 

The man stood out because he was attempting to not be noticed, which might have worked in a shady bar a few centuries past, but in a lively gay bar in the 1970's he was impossible to miss. He readjusted his hood to make sure he was covered, but not before the Doctor caught a glimpse of who was under that cloak. 

There were xenophobes and there were xenophobes with political power, and that particular one had gotten his feathers ruffled during the whole Axos incident, blaming the Doctor for losing an awful lot of money he'd put in stocks. Worse than that, the man viewed the Doctor as a foreigner due to Chinn's unflattering report. The Brigadier's influence had protected the Doctor for the most part as he refused to allow anyone to question the Doctor's role at UNIT after that incident, but the Doctor had been warned not to further annoy this particular MP. 

Not that the Doctor had listened.

He regretted that decision in hindsight. If the man were to look over at the bar, the Doctor's cover would be ruined with far more pleasure than he was willing to give the idiot. The cloaked man started to look around and the Doctor did the only thing he could think of. He turned so his back was facing the cloaked man and hoped he wouldn't be recognized from behind. 

The Master raised an eyebrow at the sudden turn, taking another sip of his drink as he regained a better humor at the Doctor's obvious plight. "I don't believe your ploy has worked, Doctor," he said, luxuriating in a certain smugness that came whenever the Doctor was uncomfortable. "He's coming this way."

Looking over at the Master, a calculating light entered the Doctor's eyes. "I suppose I'll just have to have a good reason for being in this particular bar," he said. 

Before the Master understood what he meant, the Doctor leaned over and snaked his arm around the Master's back. He pulled the Master half off his chair and into a kiss.

The Doctor was already heartily exploring the Master's mouth when his enemy's surprise at the sudden kiss was shaken off. At first the Master started to respond hesitantly before pushing the Doctor away breathlessly. It was the Doctor's turn to raise an eyebrow. He'd been rather enjoying that. 

"Let go of me," the Master demanded, his voice quiet and brown eyes furiously willing the Doctor to pull away. 

"You used to enjoy that," the Doctor said, running his fingers lightly across the Master's beard and then down his neck, under his collar. The Master shuddered against him involuntarily, eyes fluttering closed for a second. So, the Master was particularly sensitive about his neck this regeneration. The Doctor found himself filing this knowledge away for later and was far more pleased with the discovery than he thought he would be. "Tell me, has that dreadful Thompson lost interest in us yet?"

Hurt entered the Master's eyes that he quickly hid behind anger. What had gotten into the Master, to be this moody? "Yes, he's gone to sit over at the table," the Master hissed, putting as much space between them as the Doctor's hold on him would allow. "Now let go. I refuse to be used as a _cover_."

Good heavens. The Master was still _pining_ , wasn't he? The Doctor had thought he'd gotten over that little obsession centuries ago and had just come to torment him for revenge. His life over the past few months suddenly made a lot more sense as the denial faded away. How many times had the Master asked for him to rule the galaxy with him? When the Doctor let himself see the offer for what it was, it was a little pathetic. He supposed he could hardly blame the Master for falling head over heels for him, but there was a limit.

He wasn't a cruel man by nature, but the realization made this a little more awkward than he'd have liked. "Ah, I see," he said after clearing his throat, though he still didn't let go of the Master. 

The Master tensed in absolute fury at this. Just before the Master could pull away, however, the Doctor leaned in again and kissed the Master more gently. He could feel the Master's confusion, unable to decide between desire or fury, hope or hurt. 

He pulled back when he felt the brush against his hand. Peter had moved past him to get to another patron, but he caught the Doctor's attention with a look of concern in his eyes. The Doctor nodded, showing he was alright. 

The Master on the other hand... The Master had finally settled on just being miserable, though he attempted to cover that with a cold, professional disinterest. "What are you playing at?" the Master asked after he swallowed the tightness around his throat.

"Has anyone approached our friend's table?" the Doctor countered, ignoring the Master's question.

"No," the Master snapped, though he didn't pull away. He was angry, but he couldn't seem to break the contact of his own volition. "He's still sitting alone. Is that all you want? Because if it is, I would appreciate it if you listened to my earlier request."

"Is that true?" The Doctor smiled as his hand on the Master's waist slowly started to trace down his side, ghosting around his thigh. "Then why haven't you pulled away?"

"Doctor-"

"I did kiss you because it was convenient," the Doctor admitted. "However, I found it a lot more enjoyable than I thought I would. Upon thinking the matter over, I've decided I'd rather not let you go. And if there's been no contact made with our query, I see no reason to stop kissing you. Do you have any objections to that?"

The Master searched the Doctor's eyes, coming to whatever decision far more slowly than he really needed to. The Doctor honestly had no idea what was going on in that head of his, though he was starting to get impatient with the answer. "This is all still a game to you, isn't it?" the Master finally asked.

"My dear fellow, you are one to talk." The Doctor chuckled and shook his head, marveling at how the Master could accuse him of such a thing. "You're the one that insists on these silly games."

A look of hurt and something else that was undefined passed through the Master's eyes, but it was gone before the Doctor could even process something unknown was there. Then he was leaning forward, scooting their chairs together. His face was hidden against the Doctor's shoulder as his hands clutched lightly at the Doctor's jacket. 

It was a surprising turn of events, to say the least. Not quite as pleasant as the kissing, but not altogether unpleasant either, having the Master in his arms like this. The Doctor could smell the cigar smoke and a faint touch of cinnamon, both of which the Doctor found he really liked in this regeneration. Smoking was a disgusting habit, but there was something about the smell of it that the Doctor found himself drawn to. And the cinnamon... did the Master have a sweet tooth, this time around? He was beginning to realize that he really wanted to find out.

Was that... Yes, the Master was fastening something to the inside of his jacket lapels, but the Doctor ignored it for now. It was probably a tracker or some listening device, which the Doctor could use it for a bit of fun later if things went south. It was just another part of the games they played, but this time with unexpected close contact that the Doctor found he enjoyed. No point in bringing it up now, not when it was rather nice to have the Master this close.

He slowly started to massage the Master's shoulders, feeling the other man relax. The Master finally looked back up, not giving the Doctor a chance to assess the situation as he started another kiss. Which was definitely more along the lines of what the Doctor wanted, so he wasn't going to argue. In fact, he was just about to pull the Master completely into his lap when he heard a small cough from behind the bar. "I don't mean to interrupt-" Peter started.

"Then _don't_ ," the Master said with a glare as he broke the kiss. 

Peter took a step back, eyes growing wide. He swallowed before continuing. "I just thought you might want to know that one of those tables you've both been watching has gotten a visitor." 

Both of them looked startled at this, the Master leaning up to see over the Doctor's shoulder as the Doctor craned his head around. Sure enough, there was a shady-looking man in a suit that was too big for him approaching the table of the UNIT's contact and motioning over the MP. He was sweating and nervous, just like if he were carrying goods that he knew were hot. 

The Doctor grinned and gave the Master's backside a teasing swat. Finally, things were going to get interesting. "Business before pleasure, old chap," he said, sliding out of the chair. He left money on the table for the drinks... and quite a bit extra for the tip. It wasn't his money, and Peter had been more than useful. 

He turned back around to ask what the Master planned to do only to find the Master was no longer there. A quick glance around caught him a glimpse of the Master's shoulders as he walked out of the bar. Rubbing his chin, he caught Peter's shrug and nod of thanks before turning back to the business at hand. 

Walking over to the table which was already in heated discussion over prices, the Doctor slid into an empty chair. The conversation immediately went silent. "Don't mind me, gentlemen," the Doctor said with his most charming smile. "Please continue."

~FIN~


End file.
